


In the Dust

by SoManyJacks



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Goodbyes, M/M, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyJacks/pseuds/SoManyJacks
Summary: Yusuke visits Akira while he is packing to leave Tokyo. Some things are better left unsaid.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	In the Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Did you ever think that maybe Akira really really didn't want to go home? Like, at all?

“Oh.” Yusuke’s eyes widened when he reached the top of the stairs. “Oh,” he said again, quieter, blinking as he took in the state of the attic.

That’s all it was, now. It wasn’t Akira’s room any more, nor was it their hideout. It was just an attic, same as it had been before Akira arrived. Everything was packed; his keepsakes and decorations, his books and clothes, all stowed away for the trip home. In the afternoon light slanting through the window, dust motes swirled and danced.  


“I know, right?” Akira was on his hands and knees, fishing around under his makeshift bed. He pulled out a dusty wad of rolled up socks. “Ah dammit, I just did laundry.” He contemplated the dirty bundle in his hand. 

“Wrap it in a plastic bag to wash when you get home,” Yusuke recommended. He sat at the table, piled high with leftover snacks from their Phantom Thief days. Without thinking he helped himself to a cup of jagariko. 

“Actually....” Akira crinkled his nose. “I’m not entirely sure... are these even mine?”

They stared at each other for a beat. Then Akira lurched into action, dunking the dusty socks into the garbage with a shudder. “Ugh, I gotta wash my hands.” He ran downstairs.

Yusuke continued to snack, not really tasting it. In fact he felt very strange, almost disconnected from himself, as if this wasn’t real. How amusing. 

Akira returned a moment later, still shaking his head. “I’m just going to pray those were Sojiro’s,” he said, taking a seat across from Yusuke. He cracked open a bottle of water and took a long sip. “Man, it’s dusty in here.”

“Indeed.” A silence fell over them both. 

It occurred to Yusuke then that he would miss this; there were very few in this world who were as comfortable with silence as Akira. In fact, the more time they spent together, the less they spoke. It felt right in a way Yusuke couldn’t describe, at least, not in words. Perhaps a painting.... 

“You’re thinking about a new work, aren’t you?” Akira said suddenly.

“Hm? Yes, actually. Am I that transparent?” Yusuke laughed a little out of nervousness. The sense that he would miss this -- miss Akira -- intensified sharply. To cover the moment, he continued to eat, rhythmically chomping each potato stick until it was gone, then grabbing another.

“Only to me,” Akira said. He smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes.

Another silence fell. Yusuke finished his snack, but he didn’t want to open a new cup. Not because he wasn’t hungry, but because inevitably he would eat them, one after the other, each little stick a tangible, edible reminder that his time with Akira was running out.

_ So this is what a true goodbye feels like. _ As he always did in difficult situations, Yusuke tried to create some distance between his mind and his emotions, catalog the sensation for future reference.  _ How terrible.  _

Suddenly the thought of letting the silence grow was unbearable. “You must be looking forward to going home, after all this.” Yusuke heard the words coming from his mouth, as if someone else was speaking with his voice. He contemplated his empty cup, the crumbs of potato wedged into the bottom.

Akira snorted in derision. “What do  _ you  _ think?” 

Yusuke’s head shot up at the unexpected venom in his tone. But no, Akira wasn’t angry. He was upset, staring through his glasses and hair at Yusuke with a wild, burning despair.

Yusuke stared back. It was as though he was seeing Akira for the first time. A flood of sensation went through him: heat low in his belly, an ache high in his chest, dizziness in his skull. Blinking rapidly, Yusuke realized that he’d been blind. Blind not to see what was in front of him, deaf not to hear what had been unspoken.  _ So this is what love feels like,  _ he thought. _ How terrible. _

The silence between them was no longer a balm, but a burden. “Perhaps,” Yusuke said, his fingers clenching around the empty container, “perhaps... I would like to hear you say it.”

Akira swallowed hard. Slowly, he reached forward. His hand slid around the empty cup, almost as if he were merely trying to take it from Yusuke. But instead their fingers intertwined. 

And then he said, “I don’t want to leave.”

Of course, this was nothing new. Akira had said as much to all of them many times over the last few weeks as his departure grew iminent. But this was different. Always before it was said half in jest. Now Yusuke could hear the “you” which was missing, as clearly as if he’d said it aloud: _I don't want to leave **you.**_ Or maybe this is what Akira had meant all along, and Yusuke was only now hearing it.

A thousand words flitted through the air around them. Yusuke could almost see them in the dust motes: some option they hadn’t considered, or maybe a last minute reprieve from his parents. Or perhaps they could visit on Sundays or over school breaks, or chat online, or write letters...?

But none of these words mattered. The words that did hold weight were so heavy as to shatter both of their hearts; what good would a confession do now?

So Yusuke threaded their fingers together. “I don’t want you to leave, either.”

Around them, the words and worlds they would never inhabit swirled with the dust, held aloft by some unseen force. Soon they would fall to earth, but not yet. 

Not yet.


End file.
